Krys was the seen-it-all, done-it-all, fuck-the-T-shirt kind of gal. Not one who could be astonished by anything.
Then she straight up astounded me when I saw her face get so soft it was tender, love shining out of her eyes.
It was gone in a blink, like I’d imagined it, and she stated, “He’ll have to man up. Bree needs a sibling and I ain’t gettin’ any younger.” She lifted a hand, palm out toward Lauren who had opened her mouth to speak. “Don’t worry. He won’t be hard to talk around. Doin’ the business that makes a baby is one of his favorite things.”
“One of them?” I teased.
“He likes fucking a whole lot, but my man’s addicted to blowjobs and that’s me taking it in the wrong end to make babies.”
“Good Lord,” Lauren said to the ceiling.
I grinned at Krys.
She didn’t grin at me.
She reached her arms out my way and stated, “Crock-Pot. You get on that, I can get my damned baby back.”
I kept grinning as I got up, rounded her coffee table and gave her back her daughter.
I didn’t straighten away for so long she looked up at me.
“Told you you could do it,” I mouthed.
I didn’t let her respond.
That was when I moved away, looking to Lauren.
“Crock-Pot,” I said.
“Right, it’s in my car,” she replied, pushing out of her chair. “I’ll be back,” she said to Krystal.
“We’ll be here,” Krys said softly, her head tipped down to Breanne.
Laurie and I exchanged a happy look. Then we went out to her SUV and she gave me her Crock-Pot. I thanked her, making a mental note to add that to my shopping list of things to get for home when I had a kitchen (or after the painting was done, since I could plug it in in the laundry room, now my makeshift kitchen).
I then texted Deke I was leaving Krys’s.
I went to the store, to Deke’s trailer, and I got an electric charge (not quite like his kisses, bites, teeth grazing, mouth-at-nipple pulling, etc., but still nice) when I opened the trailer with his key.
I texted Deke I made it.
I started the chicken in the Crock-Pot.
And then I texted Deke I was picking up sandwiches and that I’d be home soon.
*
Surprise of surprises, walking into my house seeing Deke in white coveralls with a mask that had wings over his face, heavy straps at the back of his head around his man-bun, and noting he was still outrageously hot.
Bigger surprise of surprises, I hadn’t paid a lot of attention when they were spraying the primer because I spent that time, to get out of the smell, in my bedroom or out on the deck. But it should have dawned on me spraying paint went lightning quick when they got it all done lickety-split last week.
So I stood inside my door, carrying bags of sandwiches, chips and La-La Land treats (the bruise under my eye wasn’t gone, but it was gone enough for me to use concealer successfully, so Sunny hadn’t so much as blinked at me—she and Shambles had just given me hugs and got me my treats while gabbling away like normal), my mind boggling because the whole downstairs was done, they were working upstairs and I hadn’t been gone three hours.
That said, most of the walls downstairs were windows.
Still.
When my mind finished boggling, taking in the soft latte color of my walls and how it warmed the whole space, I saw Deke at the edge of the landing, having pulled his mask down to his throat (also hot) staring down at me.
“You all right?” he asked.
“Are you a wizard?” I asked back, swaying out a bag to indicate the space.
Another cocky grin.
God, the man killed me.
“Lunch!” I shouted.
“Right on!” Bubba shouted back, also in coveralls, mask at his throat, but no offense to Bub, he didn’t make it hot.
“Bub, paper plates in the laundry room. Can you get ’em?” Deke asked as Bubba made his way off the ladder and Deke turned to follow him down.
“I can get them,” I said.
“I got ’em, darlin’,” Bubba replied and took off across the space.
I looked to Deke, having a weird feeling about Bubba’s exit, which seemed pre-planned.
He finished climbing down the ladder and I slowly approached him as he not-so-slowly approached me.
“Is everything cool?” I asked.
He stopped in front of me and ordered, “Give me a kiss, Jussy.”
I rolled up on my toes, he curled a hand around my jaw and we touched lips.
I rolled back and he didn’t take his hand away.
“Okay, uh…kinda freaking here, honey,” I whispered.
“Deck called.”
Oh shit.
“And?” I prompted.
“Bianca and Anton Rojas left on a flight at ten thirty yesterday morning bound for Costa Rica.”
“Oh shit,” I said out loud.
Deke kept the information flowing.
“Thing that’s sure was what freaked your girl Lacey’s old man, Anton Rojas, when you knew him, had a very illegal business.”